I drove home with my family in the car. Dad drove, Mom was in the passenger seat. Aaliyah sat on the left side of the back, I on the right.

I saunter up to my room, taking of my tux jacket. I loosened my black tie, taking it off and throwing it on the floor, leaving me in a white dress shirt and black pants.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staining my cheeks once again. I placed my head in my hands, resting them on my knees. The grey sky gave my room a cold and mourning feel. No lights were turned on.

I sat like this for a while. Tears just rolled down my cheeks, while no noise cane from my capped lips.

No. I will no stand for this. I have to find out what happened that night, leading up to the crash. How did Jessica know that she got hit? What was Becca hiding in the notebook? Why was she even driving the bike at one am?

I needed to get into her room.

A large tree laid in the middle of an abandoned field. Signs with 'No Trespassing' swung on a fence. Brown grain swayed at the winds command.

I sat up, wearing a white t-shirt and white pants. The sky was sunny, and the air was warm, but the wind cooled down any lingering sweat.

A girl was in the middle of the field. She faced her back to me, walking away. She wore a long dress, covering of what I could see of her legs. The grass was up to my knees, which made it hard to walk in.

Her long brown hair and dress blew to the side on the winds direction. It commanded to move, making the trees leaves ahead of us break off the branches.

I started to run, getting closer and closer to the girl. I started to call out for her to stop, but she didn't hear. As I reached her shoulder, I turned her around.

It was Becca.

Only, it wasn't Becca. Blood oozed out of her head, staining the white dress.

"You shouldn't have moved here. It was all your fault. You found me. You killed me."

I looked down. My once white shirt was now stained with the color of blood. Becca's blood. I tried to tell her that I needed her to some back, but it was too late.

"Baby?! What's wrong?" My Mom burst into my room, clicking on my desk lamp.

It was a dream. It was just a dream," I said. My breathing hitched and I started to get worked up again. I was screaming again. "I don't think I can go to school today."

"That's okay. I understand if you want to stay home the rest of the week. Just, promise me you'll try to get better," my Mom sat on the edge of my bed, playing with my hair and checking my temperature with the back of her palm.

"Okay, Mom. I love you," I whispered. She kissed my forehead and left my room, closing the door. I few minutes later, I heard her car leave the driveway.

As soon as I saw her car down the street, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number. On the third ring, it picked up.

"What do you want?"

"JJ? Get over to my house. I need help looking for answers."

"I'll be over in 10."

"So what's the plan?" JJ asked. We both wore a hoodie and basketball shorts, despite the cold weather.

"I plan to find the red notebook. She must have something written in there that might help us. There has to be," I explained. JJ thought it was a good idea, but we didn't know how we're going to get it.

"Tim and Amy are going to go through her room soon. We should probably just ask if we could sit in there and find closure. It's not a lie," I offered. JJ nodded his head, liking the idea.

"I'm not doing this without Elly. She deserves this, too," JJ reasoned. I agreed and JJ called her. Five minutes later, she arrived at the door. Becca's house was next to mine, so we just walked over through the cold weather.

I rang the door bell and we stood there, shivering.

"Who is it no- oh! Shawn, Jack, Elly, this is a surprise. What brings you here?" Mrs. Devinel opened the door wider for us to enter. We walked inside the warm house, settling into the living room.

Amy had no makeup on, and bags under her eyes. She held a stuffed animal close to her face that must've been Becca's. Her clothes had stains, and I think people in Seattle could've smelt her.

"We just wanted to sit in Becca's room. Find some sort of closure, if thats alright. We don't want to cause a fuss," Elly spoke with kindness. Mrs. Devinel smiled and reached out to pat her hands.

"Of course. All of you are always welcome. Please take anything if you need to. She has so much stuff. But, don't touch the CDs or books. She wouldn't want that," Amy replied. She was on the verge of crying again.

"Oh you guys, she wouldn't stop talking about you. Even you, Shawn. She gushed over you. It was nice of you to come into her life, even if it was a short amount of time." She hugged us all at the same time. The smell was tolerable, but it wasnt that great. We thanked her and started up the stairs.

Becca's room wasn't what I expected it to be. Large windows looking over the backyard, a full sized bed, a bookshelf with almost every book in the universe, and huge wall filled with CDs. I swear, this wall alone was the library of music.

It was also really cold, just like her hands. Downstairs, I swear the heat was on.

"Okay, if I was Becca, where would I hide a notebook that kept the secrets of the universe?" JJ thought out loud. Elly started to look through the books, and JJ looked underneath her bed.

Where would Becca put her notebook? She wouldn't hide it somewhere obvious. More, easy accessible and at her need and will. Somewhere that she doesn't want people to find it, but not totally hidden.

"You gunna help, Shawn? Or are you just going to sit there?" JJ asked, being a bit annoyed.

"Are you guys sure you're looking in the right spots? Like, would Becca really put it in her books or under her bed? No. Think like Becca,"

I said. They all seemed to stop and think for a moment.

"If I was Becca, I would probably hide it where nobody would expect. Or, I would probably look at details," I killed the silence with my theory.

JJ and Elly looked at me like I read their mind. I started to walk towards the window, noticing it was open. No wonder I was freezing.

I lifted the already open window, letting the breeze fill the room. A piece of scrap paper, no bigger than a gum wrapper, flittered onto the floor with a scribble of one word. It was her hand writing.

Tattoo